Bart and Pat.—Terrible Situation. ‘—The first Horror, and its Effects.—An Attempt to climb.—Another Attempt to scale the Corners.—Trying the Sides.—Too wide by far.—Pat wants to tie a Rope to Nothing.—The Pickaxe.—New Attempts at Climbing.—New Disappointments.—Pat’s Fertility of Invention.—A new Suggestion.—A dangerous Experiment.—Running the Risk.—Tugging at the Logs.—The obstinate Fabric.—Baffled and beaten.

THERE, side by side, stood the two boys, at the bottom of the deep pit, into which they had descended; and, standing there, they looked with unutterable feelings at the opening far above them, across which was suspended the treacherous beam. At first there was a thrill of expectation, in both of them, that the beam was even then breaking, and at any instant might fall and crush them. It had sagged down so far, and the fracture was so complete, that the end might come in another moment. Thus they stood, and looked up in silence, and with hearts that throbbed fast and painfully. Neither of them spoke a word. It was as much as they could do to breathe.

A terrible position it was, and how terrible they knew only too well. One hundred feet below the ground, and seventy feet below the level of the sea—such was the depth of that pit. It was so long and so narrow that the bottom was quite dark. As they stood with their eyes thus fixed on the threatening beam, they noticed that the sky beyond it had changed in its color from blue to black, and two or three stars were faintly visible. It was like the sky of night, and not like that of day. That little piece of sky thus indicated to them the change in their fate, and seemed to frown upon them from above.

In their minds there was one prevailing sense of mute horror and awful expectation; yet, together with this, a thousand other thoughts flashed through them—thoughts of friends, thoughts of home, wild speculations as to the possibility of escape; and with these they noticed also that black piece of sky, with its faintly-twinkling stars. But between them and it, between the upper world which that sky spoke of and themselves, there intervened that broken beam stretching across like a bar, to shut them in forever.

Now, gradually, the first horror passed. It was too intense a feeling to endure. The delay of their fate made them calmer, and brought back presence of mind; for the beam moved no more—it fell not—perhaps it might remain as it was, threatening them, but doing no more than that. This respite from their doom thus brought them back to themselves, and made them search eagerly the sides of the pit as they looked up.

“I wonder if we can’t climb it, thin,” said Pat.

“I’m afraid not,” said Bart, in a dejected tone.

“Sure an there’s no harrum in given it a thrial,” said Pat; and, as he said so, he laid his hands upon the staying around the hole. Scarce had he done this, than he was aware of a difference between the staying here, and that which was higher up. Bart, also, who had done as Pat had done, and tried to find some way of climbing, noticed the same thing.

Had the staying below been like that above, the question of their escape would very soon have been settled by such practised climbers as these two; but, unfortunately, there was a very important difference. Above, the staying had been made of stout planks and deals, and these were far enough apart to have served for grasping by both hands and feet. They would thus have afforded an actual ladder. Below, however, it was very different. The staying of the sides of the pit was made, not of planks, which could be grasped by the hands, but of round logs, which the hands could not hold, though the feet could insert themselves well enough in the interstices. These logs rested closely one upon the other, nor was there any way by which the hands could pass between them or around them so as to grasp them. This, then, was the discovery that Bart and Pat made the moment that they tried their hands at climbing; and thus the first plan of escape which had suggested itself was baffled most completely.

“If we only had the planks!” sighed Bart: “but these round logs give no chance.”

Pat made no reply.

Bart then tried to climb at the corner, for here there would be more advantage to the feet, since the sides, being at right angles, would afford an easier foothold. But, though it was easier for the feet, it gave no greater help to the hands than before. Still, there were the round logs; nor was there at the angle formed by the sides any spaces sufficient to receive the hand and afford a hold.

“If we cud only get up as far as the rope,” said Pat, “it might give us a help, so it might.”

“What! when that beam is hanging there? Why, if you touched that rope the beam would come down.”

“Sure an I forgot that for the moment, so I did,” said Pat, dejectedly.

“Strange we didn’t notice that the beam was rotten,” said Bart, mournfully. “It looked sound enough.”

“It looked as sound as a nut, so it did; and how it managed to howld on till I jarked it bates me intirely, so it does.”

“It must have been sagging down and cracking all the time. The only wonder is, that it didn’t give way when we were higher up. If it had, there’d have been an end of us.”

“Sure ‘n you niver spoke a truer word in your life, so you didn’t; an, be the same token, it’s a good sign, so it is, an a fine thing intirely, that we’re down here now at this blissid minute, wid our bones not broke to smithereens. Sure but it makes me fairly shiver whin I think of you an me, one after the other, hangin away up there from that bit of rotten stick that was broken all the time.”

“If this wasn’t quite so wide,” Said Bart, “we might stretch our legs across, and get up that way. I’ve seen men go down into wells as easy as you please, just by stretching their legs across.”

“Sure an meself it is that’s seen that same,” said Pat, briskly; “an I wondher whether, afther all, our legs mightn’t be long enough to do it.”

“O, no,” said Bart; “it’s too wide altogether.”

“Sure an we might then; an there’s nothin like tryin.”

With these words Pat set himself to try, and Bart did the same. They tried by stretching their legs as far as possible on each side to secure a foothold, and thus ascend. Had the pit been narrower, or had their legs been longer, they could have done it; but, as it was, they found it quite impossible. They could, indeed, touch the beams on either side if they stretched their legs as far apart as possible; but, having accomplished this, they could do no more. They could not raise their feet higher to the log above. So rigid were their legs when thus spread apart, that they could not raise them. At length they were compelled to desist from these efforts.

“It’s too wide intirely, so it is,” said Pat, dolefully. “An whativer was the use of makin the hole so wide is beyond me. It wasn’t any use at all at all, so it wasn’t; an there you have it.”

“The fault’s in our legs as much as in the pit,” said Bart. “If we were five years older we might do it.”

“Sure I always thought I cud climb betther thin any man till this blissid momint,” said Pat.

“I only wish I was a man for about five minutes,” said Bart, fervently.

“Two minutes’d jist do it, so it wad,” said Pat. “Yes,” said Bart.

“An these logs don’t go all the way up. If we cud only get up to the planks we’d be all right.”

“I didn’t notice particularly,” said Bart, “but it seems to me that the plank staying reaches nearly half way down.”

“Full that, ivery inch of it, so it does,” said Pat. “If we could only get up as far as that!” exclaimed Bart.

“Faith, I have it,” said Pat, suddenly. “What?” asked Bart, with some excitement.

“I have it,” repeated Pat. “It’s a rope we want.”

“A rope!” exclaimed Bart.

“Yis, a bit of a rope; ony we haven’t got one long enough.”

“Why, what good would a rope be to us here?” asked Bart, in a puzzle to know what in the wo............